


give you my best side (tell you all my best lies)

by myosotises



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Angst, Between Episodes, Between Season 1 Episodes 11 and 13, Bitterness, Canon Compliant, Catra (She-Ra) Needs a Hug, Catra Has Issues (She-Ra), Catra has a lot of them, Catra's real bitter, Cute Kids, Denial of Feelings, F/F, Feelings, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I'm so sorry this fic is such a mess what tags do i use, Mentions of scenes from Promise, They're the cute kids, i really don't know how to tag this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:21:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26354128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myosotises/pseuds/myosotises
Summary: “When we’re in charge,” she echoes, taking it. “We'll be happy.” Their hands are small, their fingers stubby, and someone’s palm—she can’t tell whose—is slightly sticky. But she wouldn’t have it any other way; they’re smiling at each other, and the knot from the events of earlier today seems to dissolve entirely from the pit of her stomach.When they became the ones giving orders, everything would be perfect.Catra find a list and with it, an old memory.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	give you my best side (tell you all my best lies)

**Author's Note:**

> Title is taken from [Homemade Dynamite](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KzgSetnFmoo) by Lorde and I really don't know why considering I don't even listen to her but the lyric seemed appropriate.  
> Let me know if you have any thoughts!

“What are we doing here?” Catra asks in surprise as Adora pulls her forward, into the broken remnants of the old forge.

“So we won’t be interrupted, silly.” She explains it like it’s a common known fact, pulling out a pad of paper they’d snatched from an older cadet’s locker before sneaking out—though Adora hadn’t told her what they’d be using it for. She places it down on one of the larger slabs of stone left over in the crumbling disarray of their usual hideout before opening her other hand, only to gasp. “Oh no!”

“What?” Catra demands, jumping forward to peer over her shoulder. “What's wrong?” 

“The crayons! We were gonna write with these!” Adora turns to hold them out to her, lower lip pushing out. “See? Blue for you and grey for me, but I broke mine!”

“That’s it?” Catra laughs, butting into her side playfully. The solution is easy—all she wants is for Adora to stop looking so sad—so she plucks the remaining crayon, still whole, from Adora’s hand and snaps it into two. “Done.”

“What was—”

“Now we match,” she says simply, before plopping to the ground. “So what’d you wanna do again?”

Adora’s face splits into a wide grin and she hurries to sit down next to her, crossing her legs properly. “I thought we could write some things down, after today.”

She tenses at the mention of earlier, when Adora had come to find her after she ran away to the barracks. Although she’d reassured her, it still stung to think of how she’d found Catra just crying on the bed. Taking in a breath, she tries to shake it off, staring at Adora now. “What d’you mean?”

She shrugs. “We’re gonna command the Horde one day, right? We can make a list of all the stuff we’re gonna have or do once we’re in control! Or anything we want at all. So we can check back one day when Lord Hordak puts us on top.”

“Huh?”

Laughing, Adora shakes her head as she flips open the notepad. “Here, I’ll go first.” Catra watches her as she starts to write, eyebrows furrowing as she concentrates, and she has to tamp down an irrational smile pulling at her mouth. “Ta-da! Done, look!”

**1\. See the world!! (+ CONQUER IT)**

“It can be anything!” she coaxes, “Whatever you want. Because we’re gonna get all of it when we’re older, right?”

Catra’s eyes trace over the neatly printed words and a knot she hadn’t even noticed she was carrying begins to loosen in her stomach. “Yeah, okay! My turn?”

“Go, go,” she urges, pushing the paper over.

Catra grabs her crayon and adds, below the first point:

**2\. Us (we look out for each other)**

Then she glances at Adora for her reaction. _Nothing really bad can happen as long as we have each other_ , her voice echoes from before.

“Oh, I get it, because we’re gonna have us!” Adora exclaims, but then the small dip in her brow returns as she blows out an exasperated breath. “ _That_ should’ve been first, duh! I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. You’re so smart, Catra.”

“Try to keep up then, dummy,” she jokes, smiling even as heat crawls up her neck. “Whatever though, it’s fine—it’s number two because there’s two of us! It’s always gonna be the two of us.”

Nodding earnestly in agreement, Adora reaches over with her own crayon, underlining the words. When that isn’t enough, she circles it too, hard enough for the wax to press into the paper. Catra follows her example, adding a few arrows, eyes shifting to Adora in time to catch her grin.

“There! Now we can see it’s the most important one. What should we do for number three?” Adora asks, tapping her—now blunted—crayon against the corner of the paper.

“Something with Shadow Weaver,” she suggests without thinking, but something tangled and twisted and tight in her seems to agree. “Maybe we can throw her in the prison? Or maybe just send her straight to Beast Island!”

“Catra, no!” Adora’s head whips to her, lips parted. “You don’t mean that!”

“Why not?” she challenges, and suddenly eager, she seizes the paper.

“ _Catra_ ,” she says again, Adora’s hand coming to rest on her wrist. “I know you’re mad at everything she does, but it’s like she told us, it’s all for our own good, right?”

_It’s what she tells_ you, she thinks, but she doesn’t dare voice it. As much good there is in Adora, there’s bad with Shadow Weaver. And still, _still_ , all she wants is to be equal to her in Shadow Weaver’s eyes. To be enough.

“Maybe she doesn’t yet, but someday, she’s gonna see how amazing you are, Catra,” she says, staring at her solemnly. “Just like I already know.”

Catra blinks rapidly, fiercely trying to stop the tears attempting to escape. She won’t cry, not again today, not even with Adora. “Fine,” she says eventually, when she’s regained control. Her voice is rough, and it’s all she says.

Smiling at her, Adora takes the notepad back from her gently. “I know what we can write instead.”

**3\. Nobody can hurt us anymore ever**

“Not _even_ Shadow Weaver.”

“Nobody,” she repeats, squeezing Catra’s hand. “ _Especially_ not Shadow Weaver when she gets Lord Hordak to promote us.”

Finally, a smile cracks across her face too. Adora was right. When they made it to the top, they’d be above even Shadow Weaver. And then she’d see how Catra was just as good as Adora, that they were always meant to be a team.

And if she didn’t? Well. Beast Island was still an option.

_Adora would never let you_ , that same crooked thing inside of her whispers, despite her attempts to drown it out, _She’ll always be on Shadow Weaver’s side_.

She tries to push it away. _She’s always gonna be on_ my _side too_.

She refuses to think of what could happen if Adora ever has to choose.

“Okay,” she says instead, “And number four?”

Adora considers for a moment, and brightens. Instinctively, Catra grins back at her.

**4\. Command: we’re in charge**

“It’s obvious, I know,” she admits, “But still. The Horde is gonna follow _us_ , because they know we’re gonna win against those evil princesses!”

It _was_ implied, but it was worth writing down. Control was important, particularly in the Horde—Shadow Weaver _loved_ to lord her own authority over them. And why not put it on the list? Catra indulged Adora as much as Shadow Weaver herself. “Maybe we have to write it down for it to come true,” she offers teasingly, nudging her best friend.

Adora laughs, pushing her back without any force. “Well, now it has to! What about you? Do you have any ideas for the fifth one?”

She pauses—all the past points haven’t been _substantial_ , real things they could physically attain.

**5\. Good food**

“You don’t like our rations?” Adora asks, reading her untidy scrawl over her shoulder. “But we’ve been getting more of the grey kind recently! It’s the better one!”

“Yeah, but you know what’s even _better_ than our boring ration bars?” she counters, “ _Real_ food. From outside the Fright Zone!”

“Catra, you know that contraband isn’t allowed!”

“So? Remember that time I found that colourful thing from Octavia’s confiscation stash—?”

“That time you _stole_ that colourful thing—”

“Maybe, but it wasn’t like she’d be eating it! And you were too scared to try, I had to do it for both of us!” she says emphatically, waving a finger at Adora’s face. “It was _sweet_ , remember? It didn’t taste like mush? That’s _way_ better than dumb rations.”

Adora sighs, watching Catra draw a weirdly-shaped blob beside her words—vaguely reminiscent of the actual food in question, what had the older cadets called it again? Fruit? “Fine. I’ll try it when we get to call the shots. But _only_ because by then it’s gonna be allowed for everyone.”

“You admit it!” she gloats, pointing at Adora with the crayon triumphantly. “Actual food is better than rations!”

“Whatever,” she mutters, obviously hiding a smile. “I just wanna do the same stuff as you. Together, next time.”

Catra grins. “Deal. What should we do for six?”

Adora shrugs easily. “I already put a lot of stuff. What do you want?”

**6\. A big bed**

“I’m tired of sleeping in our tiny bunks,” she complains defensively, but the way Adora’s smile spreads over her face, warm and understanding, makes her balk, uncomfortable with the sensation of being seen. Vulnerable.

Because what she’s really tired of is having to wake up and climb back to her own bunk before the other cadets can ever find her in Adora’s. Tired of once sleeping beside each other to moving to Adora’s feet—which sometimes she wouldn’t mind without context, not when it means she’s better able to protect her, but it isn’t the real reason—because it’s a faster trip back on the occasion some Force Captain is making rounds to check on them. Tired of giving up things she didn’t even know were “privileges”, of having them taken away for “distracting” Adora.

She’s tired of the way their friendship is seen as a weakness, when it’s _not_. It’s beyond any training program the Horde could put her through, or any combat course for the field they could force her to work at. It’s a strength, because with Adora, she always knows who’s marching in time with her, who’s going to fight beside her, who’s got her back. Who she would do _anything_ for, same as Adora would do for her. It’s not a weakness at all, because Catra feels infinitely more capable with Adora at her side than without.

She could even face Shadow Weaver.

“Me too,” Adora says, still smiling at her _like that_. “When we’re Force Captains, our room will be _huge_ , and it’ll be just for ourselves. The bed will be _way_ better than almost sleeping on the floor."

There’s a meaningful hint behind the words too. A place for them, where they didn’t have to hide, where they could stay instead of running away to the abandoned forge, where they could be themselves without Shadow Weaver, without other cadets, without Hordak. Just themselves.

Just Adora and Catra.

Unable to stop herself, a grin stretches wide across her face. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Adora repeats, beaming.

Catra looks away first, turning to consider the list again. It’s split between their two colours, written in wax and large letters and added embellishments. After six points, the page is nearly full, leaving only one last line at the bottom.

“Anything else we should put?”

Adora’s _still_ looking at her, her gap-toothed grin bright despite the dullness of the Fright Zone. Against it, even. “Nah. I got everything I need.”

“What if we sign it?” she asks, thinking back to the papers Shadow Weaver had shoved in her face once. _So that you may properly join us here_ , she’d said, but Catra had her doubts on what the forms had really entailed. “Like a contract?”

“Like a promise,” Adora corrects, nodding as she twirls her crayon along her finger. She writes her name first—even though it was Catra’s idea, she notes with a tinge of bitterness. As if she wouldn’t give Adora anything she asked for the moment she asked for it.

Catra puts her name down after her. When she’s done, Adora tears out the page, folding it twice in swift motions until it’s a smaller square, one that could be easily hidden in their pockets or under a bunk.

Adora faces her again and sticks out her hand, shaking the list in the other. “For when we’re in charge. We’ll be happy.”

“When we’re in charge,” she echoes, taking it. “We'll be happy.” Their hands are small, their fingers stubby, and someone’s palm—she can’t tell whose—is slightly sticky. But she wouldn’t have it any other way; they’re smiling at each other, and the knot from the events of earlier today seems to dissolve entirely from the pit of her stomach.

_When they became the ones giving orders, everything would be perfect._

Only everything wasn’t perfect, was it? If everything was perfect, the Rebellion would be defeated. If everything was perfect, She-Ra wouldn’t exist. If everything was perfect, _Adora would still be here._

Catra had made her way to the top after all, had become the one giving orders, but nothing was perfect because she’d had to do it all alone.

As she unfolds the faded piece of paper now, the creases pressed hard into the sheet, the lump in her throat seizes tight—whether from anguish or anger she can’t tell. She’d forgotten about this list, Adora probably has too. They’d talked about it for days after writing it—pulling it out when everyone else was asleep so they could consult it, whispering about the rules they’d change to get what they’d wanted—but it had eventually become nothing more than a past memory, shelved and put away in her mind.

And yet, the memory seems to wash over her in quick flashes now; the glimpses of moonlight on Adora’s skin peeking past the Fright Zone’s perpetual haze, the sound of their shared laughter reflecting off the broken rubble, the surreal blue of Adora’s gaze on her, the brilliant grin on her face, the sensation of happiness expanding in Catra’s chest. The assurance she’d known—Adora’s words; _a_ _promise_.

That kind of certainty was gone now. If Adora, the person she’d always trusted to be there, had left, nobody else would stay. Not for her, with her.

“You promise?” Her head whips up, the fur on the back of her neck standing up as she surveys the empty bunks around her, but there’s nobody there. The voice had been her own as it echoed in her head—but it had been years younger.

She lowers her gaze back to the paper in her hand, shaking her head. All this planning with Entrapta and Scorpia took time, she needed a full night’s rest. And she’d get it, after the experiment with the Black Garnet was complete.

At the bottom of the page, the two names seem to glow against the worn paper. Adora. Catra. Signed together, as she’d believed they always be. Hadn’t that been the point of the list? Number two, right? They’d been innocent back then as they’d signed their names, written the list. Unaware of what the future would bring.

All that talk about being Force Captains, being in control. _Together_.

Adora was gone now. She’d left the Horde, left any chance she had at Hordak’s favour, and she’d left _Catra_. Adora was gone, and so was any possibility they’d ever be able to check off this dumb list.

Abruptly, she jumps to her feet, stalking out of the barracks—leaving behind the belongings she’d been packing in preparation for her transfer to her new room, her _Force Captain_ room. She doesn’t fully know where she’s going yet, but she can’t stay in there. With the bunks—Adora’s bunk—and the memories crowding the drawings on the wall, the tattered sheets nobody had bothered to tidy up after Catra’s destruction, and every other nook and cranny she and Adora had explored hundreds of times.

She can’t stay in there with the prickling sense of _endearment_ that sneaks over her, because now, years later, she finally knows why Adora had led her up to their hideout and written that list. It had never been a simple idea or an attempt to plan ahead.

It had just been to cheer Catra up. To help her. Adora had only done it for her.

“I promise,” Adora’s voice says without prompting, soft and warm and genuine. Catra stops short, looking at her surroundings cagily, but the hallway she’s standing in is bare. She waits for more, but there’s no other addition. It had simply been a response to Catra in the past, at a time when she’d found her crying under a blanket alone. And a response to Catra’s thoughts now.

She lets out a hiss, stomping forward. She can’t afford to have Adora in her head. Not now. Not when they’re getting closer every hour to a solution for the war. To end the war.

She slams a hand against the mechanism outside the door to open it impatiently, her eyes falling to the list again, still unflattened. The doors slide open to let her through and she storms in, resentment bubbling to the surface again.

It had all been a lie. Everything on this stupid list was a lie—she’d never even needed Adora for any of it to begin with.

**1\. See the world!! (+ CONQUER IT)**

She’s seen plenty with all the hare-brained schemes Shadow Weaver had sent her on to fetch Adora back to the Horde, like she was some _lackey_ , some _errand-runner_. And after Hordak had seen through Shadow Weaver’s lies and trickery, _Catra_ had started to conquer the world just fine. In fact, in just hours, Etheria would be _hers_. Even with Adora on the opposing side—though leaving her behind in that First Ones’ tech castle should give them at least a bit more time, enough time to see through Entrapta’s experiment with the runestones.

**2\. Us (we look out for each other)**

She looked out for herself these days, and despite Adora’s attempts to keep her convinced otherwise, she knows she could’ve done it along. So what if Adora had made things better, more bearable? She’d also been stuck in Adora’s shadow during that time—that’s over now. Hordak trusts _her_ after Shadow Weaver’s fall from grace. Nothing can touch her now, not when she’s the one calling the shots.

**3\. Nobody can hurt us anymore ever**

Well. Adora had hurt her, hadn’t she? And Shadow Weaver, for years. And Lonnie and her crew, Octavia, and everyone else in the Horde. Adora had done her best to protect her—which also kept Catra dependent—but Catra’s learned from it. She’s climbed to the top _because_ of it, nursing that bitterness and using it every interaction she has with Adora. Adora left, and it hurt her, but who cares? It won’t happen again—she’s done with friendships and commitments and _weakness_. When push came to shove, it seemed the Horde was right in the end.

**4\. Command: we’re in charge**

This one was easy. Like she’d thought that day years ago, it was implied with the position—what were Force Captains if not to be in charge? Right now, Catra was in charge of them all. Alone. So much for _we_.

**5\. Good food**

Catra had gotten her good food; whatever happens with the younger cadets, _she_ ’s done with ration bars. Including the grey kind, since Adora had been so fond of them. She’d discovered Hordak was still partial to the gruel for some reason, but she’s organized her own agreement—by herself—with a few tank operators driving in squadrons. _I just wanna do the same stuff as you. Together, next time._ There is no next time. She knows Adora would’ve liked it, the fruit and the pastries and the occasional cakes, but she’ll never see how she might’ve reacted.

**6\. A big bed**

Of course. The bunks. There had always only been the one main point for the bed they’d get; they could relax and be together without worrying about someone inexplicably getting mad they slept on the same mattress. And even if they did get angry, who cared? It wasn’t like they’d be able to do something about it. Now, nobody would be angry when it was just Catra alone.

Not that it matters. Not that any of this matters.

She scowls, looking away quickly from the sheet. It’s drawing her in again, and she _can’t_ linger on old memories with Adora. There are things to do and Catra had managed just fine at the First Ones beacon, so why is it so hard now?

Her thoughts snag and jumble together—Adora, Adora, _Adora_ —and she grits her teeth. She feels unsteady, an emotion she isn’t ready to name or even address pulling at her as she walks up to the active forge. Even so, her steps are sure, unfaltering regardless of the snarl of emotions itching beneath her skin.

She glances over the list one more time—the _last_ time. Once a hint of what would come, now worthless old paper, stained with broken hearts and broken promises.

“For when we’re in charge.” Both her and Adora’s voices this time, in unison and agreement. “We’ll be happy.”

Catra crumples the paper. And without looking back, she tosses it into the incinerator.

It doesn’t matter if she’s happy—she hadn’t appreciated it during those years she was, and now she’d missed her window.

It doesn’t matter if she’s happy. Because she’s going to win anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> So this song was originally inspired by [Wedding Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zP47npl3rHo) from the musical Hadestown where one person is asking about their worries while the other is able to talk them down from their fears but it's devolved a lot from there. They talk about the wedding rings, wedding table and wedding bed which I then took and ran with it. Wedding rings are a promise between spouses so I used Adora and Catra's promise (you know the one) about always being with each other so they would see Etheria and that nobody being able to hurt them as long as they stayed with each other; the contraband mentioned represents the food/wedding table; the wedding bed became their own room. It's not entirely accurate but if you wanted to know, that's where all this came from!


End file.
